


Flight from King's Landing

by StarsAreMassive



Series: Ned Lives [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Kings Landing, Ned Stark Lives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 13:00:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18621133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarsAreMassive/pseuds/StarsAreMassive
Summary: Against his honour, Ned makes the decision to get his family out of King's Landing as Robert nears his death. But his youngest is missing and he has the opportunity to save another life.





	Flight from King's Landing

Lord Eddard Stark couldn't remember the last time he'd had to tread so carefully. He thinks, perhaps back in those dark days after the war, when his sister was dead and his new wife had hated him for a little while and there was a lone little babe stuck in the middle of it all. 

It wasn't the way in the North. For certain, the Lords and men up there could be as hungry for power, renown, gold and glory as much as any southern courtling, but there was a bluntness about those men that was missing all the way here in King's Landing. Back in his beloved North, men were far more honest about their true intentions, and for the most part, accepted the consequences of their actions were they foolish enough to get caught. They did not wrap themselves in the politics of court and try to ensnare you in some secret trap.

It itched under his skin having to do things this way. His honour was his pride. So much so that his whole house was now known for its honesty and steadfastness – the truest House in Westeros.

And yet here he was, sneaking around, keeping silent and playing what the Queen liked to call the Game of Thrones.

Only, he didn't want any throne. He didn't even want the hand's sigil that was pinned to his chest. No, instead, he was trying to move everyone he held dear away from it as quickly and as quietly as he could.

For days he'd been secretly filing away select clothes and belongings of his daughters. Ned could leave with the clothes on his back and Ice on his hip, but Arya and Sansa could not. He had to be careful though, lest the maids get suspicious. Most things would have to be left behind. He hadn't even sent any ravens back to Winterfell. But now the time was upon them. After his encounter with Cersei Lannister today, he knew. If they stayed in King's Landing, whether Cersei believed his word or not, they would not survive the week. He'd ordered two of his men to take Sansa to room he'd bought for safekeeping, just outside the city walls. But he'd offered no explanation to his sweet eldest girl. He'd had to be forceful, commanded her to obey her guards' every order, and she'd nodded with shadows behind her eyes and a fear in them he had never seen before. It had troubled his heart, but it had to wait for another day - one that didn't dawn in King's Landing.

Perhaps he didn't give her as much credit as he gave Arya, his wild little wolf who had gone missing. His first instinct had been to panic, but the moment of madness had passed and he knew she hadn't been taken. The Lannisters would have made sure he'd heard of it, and Arya herself would have raised a fuss that could be heard half way to the Wall. A visit to Syrio had alleviated any doubts he'd had.

"A girl is a shadow. A man need only check the shadows if he seeks a girl."

She'd told him about her dancing master tasking her with chasing down skittish cats and flighty pigeons. So he'd turned his back on the Braavosi, resigning himself to burning precious hours of the afternoon with a few men, seeking her out in all the alleys and streets in King's landing until they found her, when Syrio had spoken again.

"A girl has lately favoured the shadows of an armoury. A girl forgets that a man can smell metal and flame."

And so, for the second time since he'd come to this cursed citadel, he'd headed to the Street of Steel.

Strange that his little one would bring him here, the street where he'd followed Jon Arryn's trail and found one of Robert's bastards at the end of it. A strong lad of fourteen – the image of Baratheon blood labouring away with a smithing hammer and full of the same spark of fire that fed the rest of his House.

A House he didn't even know about. Ned would pray for that boy every night in the Godswood, to protect him for the storms that were coming. 

Jory was with him as they picked their was on horseback along the Street of Steel. It was quieter than it had been the last time he was here, the sounds of merchants and customers a gentle murmur instead of the roar he was used to. And so, it was only after a few minutes riding that they'd heard the commotion.

_"I am not a thief!"_

Ned's heart stuttered in his chest as the voice of his youngest girl rose above the quiet of the street. He moved quickly but quietly until they could spy her standing in front of someone's shop, a small scabbard clutched to her chest and two Gold Cloaks looming over her.

Jory's hand clamped down over the crook of his elbow.  _Wait and watch,_  that grip said. If the City's Guard saw him down here, it would raise too much suspicion.

"Now listen here boy," he heard them say. Sure enough, a quick glance at his daughter saw her dirtied and in breeches, with all her lovely long hair tucked away. "A gutter rat like you couldn't afford a scabbard like that. The King doesn't look kindly on stealing. That'll be your hand, boy!"

They'd made to grab her be she darted back out of their reach.

"I told you, I didn't steal it!" She shouted more panicked now. The Gold Cloaks made tried to catch her again and Ned was nearly off his horse and striding forward before a much louder voice join the fray.

"No! Wait –  _wait_! What are you doing?! Leave him alone!"

The guards paused. "You're the apprentice here, boy?"

"I am." The boy stepped forward and manoeuvred Arya behind him as he answered the guard, putting a very physical barrier between them and her, and Ned was struck dumb. Of all the blacksmiths, of all the armourers and of all the shops lining this vast street, she'd found, and apparently befriended, the one boy who may someday have as much to fear from those gilded guards as she did, should their true identities be discovered.

"We caught him thieving one of your scabbards. Hand it back to him boy and come with us – quietly mind! And we may be lenient. You may just lose your fingers."

"I'm not going anywhere -!"

" _'Arry!_ " Gendry hissed. "Sers, he's stole nothin' from me. That scabbard's a gift. He's been helping me here in the shop whenever Master Mott's been called away. I don't have coin to give him, so the scabbard's payment for his work."

The guards studied him and Arya, who was mercifully staying quiet and letting herself be tucked behind Gendry's massive frame.

"I promise you Sers, the boy's done nothin' wrong." Gendry bowed his head slightly and, although not quite looking at the floor, kept his eyes lowered and his lips thin. If he wasn't so tense, Ned could have laughed as he recognised the very same look the boy had given him when they'd met. One that betrayed his impatience and irritation.

It seemed the Gods were listening today, too. With a scoff at Arya and another glance at Gendry, the Gold Cloaks turned on their heels and strode away out of sight.

Ned waited a moment before leading his horse away from their hiding spot and approaching Mott's shop. Arya's back was to him as Gendry ruffled her hair and pushed her shoulder until she ducked under his arm and wandered further into the shop. It was only after he glanced back before turning to go after her, that he caught sight of Ned and Jory walking towards him, horses in tow.

"M'lord Hand," he said, surprised but frowning, and quickly bowed his head. "What are you doing here so late – I mean -!" he blushed and stumbled over his words. "I'm sorry m'lord I didn't mean - I meant to say Master Mott hasn't returned yet and I don't know what I can do for you –"

Arya chose that moment to return to Gendry's side. He didn't notice her of course, blushing furiously at the floor as he was, but Arya's eyes lit up and she darted forward towards him –

\- or at least she tried too until a meaty hand clamped down on her shoulder and dragged her back.

"What do you think you're doing?" Gendry hissed at her. "That's the Lord Hand, 'Arry. Mind your place!"

Arya's grin couldn't have been wider if she'd tried. "Oh, really?"

Ned looked between them. "'Arry?"

"Yes m'lord," Gendry said and pulled Arya behind him again. "He's just a boy, m'lord, that's taken to comin' round here to watch me work the past few weeks when Master Mott isn't here. Got some right cheek on him too," and he tugged Arya's hair, "but he doesn't mean no harm. Please m'lord, forgive him. He's just a lad. Hasn't been taught his courtesies to know any better, I'd wager."

Jory had been forced to hide his face in the mane of his horse so they couldn't see him laughing. But Ned couldn't hold back a small, deep chuckle and shook his head at the ratty 'boy' still grinning from behind Gendry's legs.

Suddenly a voice called from street, where Ned had just come from. "My Lord Hand! To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit today?" Master Mott was walking towards them, a basket full of food in one hand and a crease marring his brow. He spied Gendry and Arya next. "Gendry!" he said, fiercely. "What's going on here, lad?"

"Master Mott!" Gendry near yelped. "I, um, this- the Lord Hand –"

Ned decided to spare him. "There's nothing to worry about, Master Mott. Your lad Gendry here very kindly got my daughter out of a misunderstanding with the City Guard. He's a good one, your apprentice."

This did nothing to ease Mott's expression and one look at Gendry and he looked much the same. "Your daughter, m'lord?"

Ned stifled a sigh. "Come here, Arya. I've been looking for you since daybreak."

Sheepishly, Arya trudged forward towards her father. When she was close enough he tugged her forward and embraced her tightly, thanking the old Gods for sending he back to him hale.

"I'm sorry, father," she mumbled from his shirt. "I didn't mean to make you worry."

He released her with a pat on her hand and she took his hand and stood at his side. The beaming smile of only moments ago was replaced by something much shyer and sorrier as she looked between him and the blacksmith boy.

Gendry had gone white, his eyes wide before a fierce blush claimed his neck and face. Whether it was anger or embarrassment or both Ned couldn't even guess. The boy brought his soot covered hands up to his hair and cursed, " _Shit._ "

"Gendry!" Mott cuffed him.

"I'm sorry m'lord! I didn't know. I should never have – I didn't mean to put hands on her – or speak to her in such a way. I though she was just a boy – I mean, not that she looks like a boy – well she does but –" He only stopped when Ned raised a hand to silence him. Gendry screwed his eyes shut, mortified.

"It's alright lad," Ned laid a hand on his shoulder before he could start stammering again or Mott could raise a hand again. "I'm well aware of my daughter's taste for mischief. You are not to blame." He fixed Arya was a heavy glare and she had the decency to look very sorry indeed. "I saw you defend her, and I am grateful."

Mott seemed to collect himself. "And I'm sorry for this whole mess, my Lord. The boy should know his place," and Gendry received an equally as withering glare and soon the two children were near squirming. "Is there anything we can do to make amends?"

But Ned was quick to appease him. "That's not necessary. I only came for my daughter." Ned studied the man before him – a good and trustworthy man he knew him to be. There were no tales of disgruntled customers, or even brawls outside his shop. When he had asked around the Street of Steel on his first visit, he'd heard nothing but the highest praise and respect for the most skilled blacksmith in King's Landing and his apprentice.

And then of course, there were his own suspicions. Mott was the best, and he'd had more than one royal commission. Ned knew he was a clever man – he had to be for his business to be so successful – and he would have been very surprised indeed if the man before him hadn't taken one look at the King and then returned to his apprentice without coming the same conclusion as Jon Arryn. Ned chose his next words carefully, and never took his eyes from the Master.

"I return with my family to Winterfell, Master Mott. I will no longer be required to serve the throne."

He wanted to watch the man process the words, but Arya was jumping and tugging on his hand, ecstatic. "Oh really, father! Are we really? I get to go home to Bran like I promised! And Rickon and Robb and Mother and Maester Luwin?" She threw her arms around his waist and hugged him impossibly hard. "Oh thank you, father. When are we leaving? Can we go now?"

Still not looking at her, eyes fixed firmly on Mott, he answered. "Yes my sweetling. We go tonight. The Queen's family will, I'm sure, be more than capable to finishing Robert's affairs."

There it was. A sharpness behind Mott's ever watchful eyes. He watched as they flicked towards Gendry, and back to him and he saw real fear there and it wasn't for himself.

It was then that Ned made a decision.

"As it happens, there might be something you could do for me."

"Name it my Lord," and Mott's voice wasn't as strong as it had been before.

"Winterfell always needs skilled hands at the forge, and our blacksmith is counting more years than he's willing to admit. I wonder if you'd be willing to part with your apprentice?"

Arya gasped, "Gendry!" and Mott's stared back at him, and wore the face of a man thinking hard and quickly. Ned took the opportunity to turn to Gendry, who had snapped his eyes off the floor and let them bore into Ned's own.

"I understand this is sudden, lad. But we would welcome a young man of your talents in Winterfell. It's a different life up there than King's landing but –"

"King's Landing is my home." Gendry had spoken with the same tone he'd used when he'd informed Ned that his bull helmet wasn't for sale. "I belong here with Master Mott."

But Ned pressed him. He wasn't sure why he felt it was so important to get this bastard of Robert's away from the citadel, but as he stood there he knew he had to convince him. He knew Gendry had to be part of their leaving party, half of which was already on its way away from the Keep.

"You can finish your apprenticeship with Mikken –"

"I mean no disrespect m'lord, but I can finish it here. Master Mott can't do it all on his own, and he's been good to me. Thank you," he sounded anything but grateful, "but I'm staying here."

For as long as he lived Ned didn't think he would ever forget the look that crossed Mott's face when Gendry spoke those words – fierce pride and the sharpness of sorrow all at once. But it was gone all too quickly before he steeled himself and spoke with the steel of his armour.

"No you aren't, boy."

Gendry stumbled, stuttered, stared at his Master. "My – master –"

"Be quiet. I've said you'll go and you'll go."

Arya piped up from Ned's side. "Leave him alone!" she glared at Mott. "You're not at all like Gendry said you'd be. You're horrible and selfish and stupid!"

"Lady Arya!" Jory hissed.

"No! Gendry works hard all the time and doesn't even stop when he's talking to me and all the things he makes are really good! If you want rid of him so much, you don't deserve him. Come to Winterfell Gendry," she turned to her friend. "Mikken's much nicer than him."

Gendry seemed not to have heard her, and his voice was low, his blue eyes fixed on the only person who'd been there for him since his mother. "Master I don't understand –"

"I can't be affording to keep you. You don't have to go with Lord Stark but you're not staying here regardless. Gather your things and be away with you."

The look between them spoke volumes; Mott hard and unforgiving, forcing the boy away and Gendry, confused, hurt and angry – a fourteen year old boy being forced out of the only home he had ever known.

"Gendry," Ned spoke softly. "There's no more time. You have to decide, now."

After a long, tense moment, Gendry couldn't look at Mott anymore and broke his gaze away to look at the ground. He huffed, a broken breath that he tried to hide and mumbled, "there's no choice to to be had. I'll get my things. Thank you, m'lord."

Arya tore herself out from under Jory's grip, and escaped his grasping hands. "I'll help you, Gendry!" She darted after the hulking boy.

Mott stared after him.

"You did the right thing." Ned placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

Mott nodded slowly. "I know that."

"And one day he will, too."

"No."

Ned dropped his hand as Mott turned on him, eyes blazing and worried. "No, m'lord hand – he mustn't. He mustn't ever know. You don't understand – he's so like – Stark, please –"

"Mott?"

"Promise me you won't tell him. Promise me. Him knowing would only put him in danger. Keep him safe. He's a good lad." Mott turned as Gendry emerged from the back of his shop, two travel sacks slung over his back and the silvery bull's helm clutched in one hand. Arya trotted determinedly alongside him.

"Is that everything?" Ned asked. Gendry nodded at the floor. "Then it's past time to be off."

Ned took Arya in hand and put her on his horse, climbing up behind her. The relief at having his youngest in his arms was almost too much. He watched as Jory led his by the reins, waiting for Gendry. The boy spared Mott a look and a nod, and dutifully made his way to the Winterfell guard, and as a procession they left Mott's shop and prepared to leave King's Landing for good.

"My Lord Hand - "

Ned wasn't sure if he wanted to smile or sigh. Behind them, Mott trotted to catch up, his eyes fixed on his young apprentice.

"Here lad," Mott breathed as he caught them and handed Gendry the basket brimming with bread, fruits, cheese and meats. It'll see you through a good bit of your travels – though not as long as it should, given the size of you."

Gendry only nodded and grasped the basket as it was pressed into his hands. Jory stepped forward and took it from him.

"You obey Lord Stark, do you hear me? He's a good man, and honest. His whole house is. The Stark's will do right by you, so you make sure you work hard for them, and be loyal to them. Do you hear me?"

"I hear you, Master Mott," Gendry mumbled.

Mott had had enough of Gendry looking at the ground. He grabbed his chin and thrust his head up, and Mott was thrilled to see that spark of stubbornness and anger lit like his own forge behind those King's eyes.

Mott pulled Gendry flush to him and wrapped his own strong arms around the young boy's massive frame. For a second, his arms stayed limp, but at last Gendry returned his embrace, tight and fierce for the sweetest of seconds.

They broke apart. Ned kicked his horse and pressed on with Arya. Behind him he heard Mott speak.

"Now get on with you. Lord Stark needs you now more than I do. You take care of that family, Gendry."

Ned would remember those words in the future; but as they met with the rest of the Winterfell company, and Arya gave the boy a bright smile before going to join her sister in the wheelhouse, Ned couldn't have known how important Mott's sacrifice had been, or how true his words.

 

 


End file.
